MegraLiza and I are packing our bags, the weight of everything that has happened is pressing down on me. The room is a mess of clothes and essentials hastily thrown into suitcases. I feel like I'm suffocating, each breath heavy with fear and uncertainty.Liza glances at me, her eyes filled with worry. "What are we going to do, Megra? The stalker seems to be following us everywhere."I shake my head, my mind racing. "I don't know, Liza. I just don't know."Conor walks in, his expression grim. "Megra, I need to talk to you in private."I feel a knot tighten in my stomach. "Liza, can you give us a minute?"She nods reluctantly and leaves the room, casting a worried glance back at me.Conor walks towards me, taking my hand gently. "Megra, you're not safe here. It's clear that Nathaniel can't keep you safe. Even if he wants to, the stalker seems to be focused on both you and him."I pull my hand away, anger bubbling up inside me. "It's not about Nathaniel, and it's not his fault. He wasn'
NathanielI grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turn white. The engine roars beneath me as I speed down the winding country road, the headlights cutting through the darkness. My heart pounds in my chest, a relentless drumbeat matching the intensity of my thoughts. Every twist and turn of the road feels like a twist in my gut, and I struggle to keep my emotions in check. Beside me, Liza sits quietly, her eyes darting nervously between me and the road.I break the silence, my voice tight with urgency. "Did you see anyone when the car was set on fire?"Liza shakes her head, her voice trembling slightly. "No, we were asleep. Conor was the one who woke us up. He was shouting for us to get out of bed. By the time we got downstairs, everything was already in flames."A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. "And Megra? Is she okay?" The question feels heavy on my tongue, loaded with fear and concern.Liza hesitates, her eyes reflecting the dim light from the dashboard. "She wa
MegraThe noise of the plane’s engines fades into the background as I sit, staring blankly out the window at the endless expanse of sky. My mind keeps circling back to the letter I wrote to Liza, replaying the words over and over. Guilt twists in my stomach, a constant, gnawing presence. I imagine her reading it, the confusion and betrayal she must have felt.The look on her face haunts me, even though I wasn’t there to see it. My heart aches as I think of Nathaniel, wondering what he must be thinking. The anger, the disbelief—especially after he promised to fix things and be with me. The baby kicks, a gentle reminder that this decision isn’t just about me. Every time I think of Nathaniel, the kicks seem to come, as if the baby is responding to my turmoil.I can’t shake the uneasiness that settles over me whenever Conor is around. The only reason I agreed to leave with him was for the sake of my child, to protect this little life growing inside me. But being around Conor feels... wron
MegraThe pain hits me like a tidal wave, crashing through my body and tearing a scream from my throat. It's like nothing I've ever felt before—sharp, overwhelming, and relentless. I clutch my stomach, the contractions squeezing me from the inside, leaving me gasping for air. My heart races with a mix of anxiety and fear. This is it. The baby is coming."Conor!" I scream, my voice high and frantic. I barely recognise the sound of my own voice. My breaths come in short, desperate bursts as another contraction seizes me. I can hear footsteps pounding up the stairs, and a moment later, Conor bursts into the room, his face pale and his eyes wide with concern."What's wrong?" he asks, rushing to my side. But he doesn't need me to answer. The answer is written all over my face, in my tears, and in the way I'm bent over in pain."The baby... it's time," I manage to gasp out. Without hesitation, Conor sweeps me off my feet, cradling me against his chest. He moves quickly, his arms strong and
MegraThe afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. I sit on the edge of the sofa, watching as my little girl, Mia, bounces around with boundless energy. Her red curls, so much like mine, spring up and down with each leap. Her laughter fills the air—a sweet, innocent sound that momentarily lifts the heavy burden on my heart. It's been two years since she was born, and while my life has been anything but perfect, she is my solace. The only bright spot in a world that has grown increasingly dark.Since the day Conor picked me up from the hospital, everything has changed. My life has become a series of endless days, each one filled with misery and a deep, aching loneliness. The isolation is suffocating. No phone calls, no contact with the outside world. Conor made sure of that after discovering I had called Nathaniel from the hospital. He was furious, and from that moment on, he tightened his grip on me, cutting me off from everyone I ever k
NathanielThe memory of Megra's voice haunts me every day. It's been two years since she called, and every day since then has been a relentless pursuit to find her. I can’t forget the desperation in her voice, the quiet resolve when she told me about our daughter. Every night, I relive that moment, hearing her whisper "Mia Rose Welsh" with a mixture of pride and heartbreak. That single call has been my lifeline, my only connection to her and our child.I find myself shouting into the phone, "I said you need to find them!" even though everyone on the other end is doing the best they can. The frustration eats at me. Every lead has gone cold, and every effort has felt like chasing shadows. I’ve poured my heart and soul into this search, neglecting everything else, including Anna and her twisted games.These past two years have been a nightmare. After Megra's call, I immediately flew to Europe. I traced her steps to the hospital, hoping for some clue, but found nothing. The staff remember
MegraI stare at my reflection in the mirror, barely recognising the woman staring back. My right eye is swollen shut, a hideous purple-black hue spreading around it. The pain is relentless, throbbing with every heartbeat. I dab makeup over the bruised skin, but the dark discoloration is impossible to fully cover. Each touch is a reminder of Conor's latest outburst—a fresh wave of anger and hatred rising within me.I hate him. I hate Conor and his entire twisted family. They all know what's happening to me, and yet they do nothing. They pretend not to see the bruises, the broken spirit, or the fear in my eyes. On days like today, they keep Mia away from me, using my own daughter as a weapon against me. The physical abuse has become a nightmarish routine, but the emotional torment is worse. Conor parades other women in front of me, flaunting his recklessness with a twisted glee. He brings them into what he calls our home, the bed he forces himself on me, and makes me to watch as they f
MegraAs we step out of the cab and onto the familiar streets of Stockton, a profound sense of relief fills me. The journey from Europe to America has been long and exhausting, but now that we're here, it feels like a sanctuary. The town looks just as I remember: quiet and peaceful, with its tree-lined streets and cosy houses. It's a stark contrast to the life we've left behind. I had missed this.I glance at Celia, who is taking in her new surroundings with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "This is it, Celia," I say with a smile. "Welcome to America. This is my hometown, Stockton. I know it's a lot different from Europe, but I hope you can adjust. It's quiet, but it's safe."Celia nods, her expression softening as she returns my smile. "I'm sure we'll manage. It looks like a lovely place." She reaches out to take Mia's hand, and I watch as my daughter toddles towards her, giggling. The sight of Mia's happiness lifts my spirits, if only for a moment.We quickly enter my small home